


a flower knows, when its butterfly will return

by koroshiyas (lucitae)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 17:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7943059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucitae/pseuds/koroshiyas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“a flower knows, when its butterfly will return,<br/>and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand;<br/>but now it hurts, to watch you leave so soon,<br/>when I don't know, if you will ever come back.”</p><p>― Sanober Khan</p><p>In which Wonwoo's fears get the better of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a flower knows, when its butterfly will return

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thanhbear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanhbear/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Thanh! Thank you for holding my hand, for sharing the same enthusiasm in regards to periodic dramas, for being the wonderful human you are. You deserve at least 70k more but I'm not talented enough so please accept this humble work of mine.
> 
> As usual, this is unbeta'd madness and all the "research" I've done was watch Queen Seondeok in 2009 as I fell head over heels for **Hwarang** (and Joo Sang Wook). I can never capture their characterizations with justice, so please read this with a dollop of salt.

Wonwoo gently swabs at the gash on Seokmin's abdomen, earning a wince followed by a hiss. But before the younger boy can protest, Wonwoo interjects with a: "if you are so afraid of pain, perhaps you should have avoided getting injured in the first place."

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it works," Seokmin says, accompanied by one of his signature smiles of too much teeth and eyes of crescent moons. "Besides," he begins, expression turning serious, "the fourth commandment dictates: never retreat in battle." 

Wonwoo stills before he fidgets with the salve, trying to obscure the way his hands tremble as he applies the paste to the wound. "That's not what our team commander would have wanted. We've..." he falls silent, trying to figure out the words. "We've lost too many." His voice quavers. He thinks of the wars waged for the first commandment — loyalty to one's lord — and the youths felled by disobeying the fifth — never take a life without a just cause. He thinks of past comrades who have nourished the flowers with their blood and become fodder with flesh. He thinks of the laughter no longer shared and the futures that no longer exist and all the mounds constructed honoring warriors that perished for  _the glory of the nation_.

Wonwoo doesn't believe because governing principles were created by men, and men are never honest.

"He would have wanted you to be careful," Wonwoo says, barely audible, his deft fingers ghosting over bare skin, carefully bandaging the area, eyes focused on the wound.

There's a firm grip on Wonwoo's wrist, followed by a gentle tug. "Are you sure that is what Seungcheol would have wanted?"

There's no reply.

 

Wonwoo thinks of when he was young and emotionally unbalanced, introduced to a group of young men despite his month long protest. He's envisioned life differently: something more peaceful, less dangerous, filled with more books and downtime, and eventually some position in court. But father said that  _all respectable men begin as hwarang_ so in the end he's introduced to a group of young men, feeling very  _very_ out of place. He keeps to himself the entire day.

The loneliness doesn't last long. A boy drags another and tumbles into Wonwoo's field of vision.

"My name is Lee Seokmin," the boy says, full of purpose, with a warm smile.

"Kwon Soonyoung," the other pipes up, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

"Jeon Wonwoo," Wonwoo introduces himself, uncertain.

There's a "we know" and a "come on, let's show you around," which results in a required tour of the facilities and additional commentary like how the restroom is the hotspot for gossip exchange. By the end of the hour, Wonwoo finds himself with a smile on his lips and with two boys he could call friends.

That's only the beginning. Soon after his arrival there's a preparation for a ceremony where he falls behind despite Soonyoung's simple instructions and forever optimistic "you'll get it." The  _eventually_ lingers in the air like a haunting ghost. So Wonwoo stays, after hours, training, quietly blaming his progress on untrained muscles and unfamiliar movements. To his surprise, Seokmin shows up and offers to help. A few guided tips and days of companionship after lessons gets Wonwoo caught up with the rest of his unit. Wonwoo doesn't make a single mistake the day of the ceremony. The king smiles kindly to his Hwarang as Wonwoo grins brightly at Seokmin who returns the smile.

And it continues — the easy companionship. Wonwoo recalls the hike up mountains where fatigue recedes due to a tag team effort between Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung who keeps everyone's spirits up. Seokmin's tireless patience even on his worst days and Wonwoo who continues to wear it thin with constant questions, playful jabs, and a mischievous shove into the lake. Unfortunately, it results in retaliation. Wonwoo gets dragged down by the ankles and his troop witnesses the unsightly gasps for breath. Wonwoo thinks of all the big and little moments: combat practice, late night conversations, stall side jokes, tension relief before ceremonies, the quiet moments and reassuring smiles.

 

A breath stutters out of his lungs. Wonwoo leans forward, forehead leaning against Seokmin's chest. "Who would I sing lullabies to, in your absence?"

Seokmin chuckles at that. A hand reaching up, hesitant, before it settles on Wonwoo's head. A gentle pat, followed by another and then another. A quiet "I know, I know" and hoping it sounds somewhat reassuring. But there's something caught in his throat and his body shudders. He thinks of obligation and everything he's raised upon. He thinks of the ideals he's been taught to follow. Valiance is rewarded, cowardice is not allowed to exist in this establishment so he charged, blade gleaming in the sunlight, mind blank. The pinprick jolt of pain as skin tears and the mind still blank spare for that one voice in the distance. It is always in the aftermath that one experiences regret, relief, whichever comes first.

Seokmin thinks of a promise nipped at the bud.

"I'm sorry," Seokmin says, soft. The corners of Wonwoo's lips curl into a semblance of a smile at that.

**Author's Note:**

> Any further (lazy) research of the Hwarang can be found [here](http://www.dartmouth.edu/~quarterly/vol1/the-hwarang-warriors---silla-s-flower-boys.html). Once again, I'm going to clarify that most of this is based on what leftover memories I have of Queen Seondeok that believed Hwarang to function both as a religious and military organization. Of course, it is a dramatic interpretation of history for entertainment purposes but if you have time I highly recommend for the semi homoerotic subtext that will unfortunately either not exist in _Hwarang: the Beginning_ or merely exist as queerbait.
> 
> It's really not that "graphic" but I always prefer to be safe than sorry.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos much appreciated!


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